But if so, a little voice nagged, then why hadn’t he texted?
‘I don’t know about me,’ Ivy said, ‘but you and Fin seem really happy, with your hot water bottles and tea.’
‘Wearehappy, darling,’ said Josie, starry-eyed in the warm light. ‘And I’m so glad I found himnow,not ten years ago. Back then I might have thought a love like this was dull, instead of seeing it for what it is. Utterly romantic.’
Ivy stepped back, considering the little stack of slightly wonky flower crowns. ‘These will look brilliant in the firelight later,’ she said.
‘They will.’ Josie picked a berry-laden crown off the pile and balanced it on top of her head. ‘We might need a few more though, darling – can’t have anyone feeling left out.’
Ivy looked at Josie, detangling a grey curl from a spiky branch and grabbed for her tote bag. ‘Hold still a minute, will you?’ she asked, taking out her sketchbook.
‘Don’t draw me for goodness’ sake. I’m a mess,’ protested Josie.
‘You look great,’ Ivy told her, pencil flying over the page. She swiftly captured Josie, cheeks as flushed as a child’s, the wild tangle of foliage and hair, the striped pyjama bottoms and herbare feet, the glitter covering her hands. She tried to imbue the sketch with all that she could feel in the room – the warm glow from the candles, the strands of ivy and dried flowers, the sleepy, cosy, stillness of this dawn moment.
‘There,’ she said, picking up a crown that she’d attached tiny silver bells to, and dropping it on Ivy’s head. ‘A perfect fit. Now, let’s do one for Fin.’
Once the pile of crowns starting wobbling precariously, Ivy brushed the glitter off the counter and they stood admiring their work.
‘I think that’s perfect now, darling,’ Josie said. ‘Just the right side of gloriously excessive.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Ivy said doubtfully. ‘We could put on a few more of these berries?’
Josie shook her head vehemently. ‘Part of great art is knowing when to stop,’ she said firmly. ‘And besides, I think we’re due our breakfast now, don’t you?’
Ivy helped herself to one of the buns and sat cross-legged on the worn armchair while Josie perched on the stool behind the till, eating yogurt out of a jar. For a little while, they didn’t say much, just the flicker of candles and the quiet clink of spoon on glass between them.
‘I supposeIcould texthim,’ Ivy said at last. ‘Trip, I mean.’
Josie smiled at her. ‘I knew who you meant, darling,’ she said. ‘And why not?’
Ivy reached for her phone. She would just send a quickmessage. Tell Trip she was looking forward to seeing him soon. It was nearly seven now, a perfectly socially acceptable time to text. She would sound breezy and casual.
She clicked on his Instagram first. If Trip was awake, she thought he might have posted something excitable –final bacon sarnie in London.But there was nothing – nothing, in fact, all week, since he had put up a picture of him and Brooke giving a thumbs up by the lighthouse, a photo that Ivy had taken. But then Ivy noticed he’d been tagged in a photo yesterday. She idly clicked on the post and nearly choked on the remains of her bun.
Blue sky behind the London Eye. Trip, smiling, arm slung round a startlingly beautiful girl with perfect white teeth, wide brown eyes and glossy black hair. Ivy clicked on the post and was taken to an Instagram page. Her name was Madison White.Actor, activist and cat-lover, read her bio. She and Trip, with their matching wide smiles and gorgeous, happy faces, looked undeniably, unbearably perfect together.
Ivy stared at the screen a moment too long before jabbing the lock button and shoving her phone quickly into her pocket.
‘Did you text him?’ asked Josie, looking up from her yogurt. ‘Because you and Trip really did have—’
‘Donotsay we have chemistry,’ Ivy snapped. ‘We have nothing.’
‘Oh,’ said Josie, looking taken aback. ‘Well, in that case—’
‘And no, I didn’t text him,’ Ivy went on. ‘Because honestly, I’ve realised it’s been a bit of a relief having him gone. All that endless optimism andthe good deeds … like, has he ever had a bad day in his life?’
‘Well, I’m sure—’
‘The answer is no, he hasn’t. Because everything’s easy for him. He swans around the world on some sort of never-ending gap year. Deciding which of the many colleges he might grace with his presence. With his perfect hair and his perfect teeth, rushing around Fox Bay like some sort of boy scout. No, actually, he’s like a golden retriever, always under my feet. Well, he wouldn’t be so cheerful if his life wasn’t so charmed.’
Josie blinked. ‘Darling, this all sounds a little—’
But Ivy barrelled on, all her hurt and confusion at Trip’s radio silence and then the picture on Instagram pouring out as one long diatribe. ‘And don’t even get me started on his name. Trip.Trip. Who names their kid that? It’s not a name. It’s a hazard. It’s what happens when you don’t look where you’re going and end up hurting yourself.’
‘Ivy—’
‘No, seriously. You can’t trust anyone who sounds like an accident. I hope he and his fake sunshine stay far away in London—’
